


Never the Usual

by Rusty_screech



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, More tags to be added, Rating May Change, Rating will definitely change, also slight tsugusayo, also the tomohima is probably mostly a side thing, basically the bands were just friend groups in high school, just mentioned they're good now, past Moca/Ran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rusty_screech/pseuds/Rusty_screech
Summary: Moca Aoba sees a new girl working her go-to cafe and is immediately smitten.Moca/Saya coffeeshop AU! Just a simple story, I think.





	1. Morning Rush

**Author's Note:**

> kjaGJFSDhk there is no Moca/Saya content? Hardly at all? I'm taking it upon myself to give the world the bakery gals the slow burn coffeeshop AU they d e s e r v e

Moca’s drowsiness was ushered out by a shock of shiny brown hair behind the counter. That was the first thing she noticed. The barista’s perfectly smooth curls tied in a bright yellow ribbon that fell to the sides of her thin, delicate face, set by the lightest and friendliest blue eyes Moca had ever seen. She looked far too luminous for the dimly lit, B-list new wave university cafe.

Her bag was thrown to the wayside as Moca clambered for her phone in her jacket pocket. She was in the back of the line, she had time to do some investigating.

‘tomoe!!!!!!’

Oh god, what if Tomoe wasn’t awake. She couldn’t wait. She might die. She felt a buzz in her clenched hand.

‘What could you possibly need’

‘cute girl alert. its s e r i o u s’

‘Oh god, how serious?’

Moca hesitated. The goddess behind the bar was busy serving a group of three, so taking a picture might be too obvious. She resolved to document her when both of them slowed down a tad.

‘very. take word for it. will prove when sitting.’

‘Ugh, 10-4.’ Moca could sense Tomoe’s eyeroll. She knew. ‘Okay okay though, what’s she look like’

‘p e r f e c t’

‘That does literally nothing to help.’

‘i knooooow geez okay light light brown hair, she’s like kinda tall? and bluuue eyes like BLUE’

Tomoe didn’t respond for another order. Then the buzz.

‘Wait. Yellow hair ribbon? Kinda grossly cheery?’

‘yeah shes exactly my type?’

‘Lol. Anyway I think that may be Saya Yamabuki. She’s in my intro chem lecture and I hear her talking about the cafe a lot.’

For some reason, Moca’s heart stopped beating a little. Not enough to stop her from texting back immediately, ‘jkhjgvjhjah you know each other???’

‘Yeah, she sits in front of me and I steal notes from her sometimes.  
She’s like.  
Perfect.’

Yeah, her heart stopped. She was dying, probably. Two orders away from the woman of her dreams, and she was about to fall dead on the floor of a dingy coffeeshop. Instead, though, she just texted back,

‘if you already have dibs i understand…’

God, she couldn’t even stand to look at her phone when Tomoe buzzed back almost immediately. After a few seconds of tortuous curiosity though, she opened the message.

It was a single selfie of a disgruntled Tomoe lying next to a fast asleep Himari. Selfie Tomoe stared at Moca with intense disappointment and fatigue. A message followed shortly after:

‘How many times do I have to remind you I Literally HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.”

Right. Tomoe and Himari are dating. It’s kind of weird having two of her childhood friends become so romantically involved, but then again, it’s kind of weird it hadn’t happened before. Moca and Tsugumi had a running bet for how long it would take them to confess, but they kept having to up the stakes and the benchmark as Tomoe and Himari spent another year just missing their chance or just being too dense.

She was still staring down at the conversation when an angelic voice broke her from her musings.

“Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need a minute to figure out what you want?”

Saya’s voice was lilting and full of life, even though she was clearly exhausted from the morning rush. It sent Moca’s heart back into a stuttering disaster, before she locked her phone and regained her staple cool exterior.

“No, sorry, I do know.”

“Excellent!” She was this cheery even dealing with difficult customers? Who even was this woman? “So what’ll it be?”

Medium latte, extra espresso shot, one pump vanilla. Moca had an image to maintain, and she couldn’t bear to admit her affinity for fake, syrupy, sugary drinks when the dark roasts and heavy caffeine fit her aesthetic so much better. She decided on that drink when she first ordered from this chain of cafes; it was a good compromise between the caffeine she needed and the sugar she deserved.

And the bread. She always had the bread. Moca would buy the whole shop, and the whole shop’s supplier if she could. The coffee might be burnt, the syrups may be fake, but pastries were positively heavenly. In the morning, she typically settles for two egg and cheese croissants, simply to satisfy her cravings and leave her room to come back for more later in the day.

Saya took down her order with the same enthusiasm as she had when Moca first walked in, and when she ran off after Moca paid, Moca couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of her own heart.

Was she seriously going to flirt with the cute barista girl? Did she seriously just call dibs on one of her best friend’s classmates? It was like a bad sitcom, she thought. A really cheesy, stupid sitcom, starring Sleepy Disaster Moca Aoba and Literal Angel Saya Yamabuki. She leaned backwards over the pickup counter when she took out her phone and typed another message to Tomoe:

‘yo is she even gay’

Radio silence until she picked up her coffee and croissants. She felt the buzz when she chose a couch in full view of her muse.

‘I don’t really know actually’

Damn, this could end quickly.

‘is there any like? like any vibe you get cuz i reeaally dont wanna come onto a straight girl’

More silence. Thinking silence, hopefully. And then a response.

‘She doesn’t sit right.’

‘how not right’

‘Uhhh she usually like has her leg up on the seat for her to lay her arm across, and she usually just straight up sits on the desk when she first walks in’

‘dude’

‘Yeah ik it’s not much but still, I think you should go for it’

Moca smiled over her coffee and looked up at Saya. It could be possible, even possible enough just to reach out.

Saya met her glance and smiled wide as a customer was yelling at her about an expired gift card. As she left to go to the back and get the manager, she smirked and rolled her eyes at Moca, who laughed and shrugged in response.

It wasn’t much, but still, she thought she should go for it.


	2. Doorbell Dissonance

A standard morning in the Aoba dorm rises with Moca’s roommate, best friend, and incumbent grouch Ran Mitake. Ran had the misfortune of being scheduled for an 8 am lecture every day of the week, save for weekends, which were reserved for sulking and cup ramen. Unfortunately for Moca, this meant that even on her free days she was jostled awake by a disgruntled slam of the door. About a month into the first semester, Ran had stopped padding delicately around the room when she got herself ready, and Moca stopped being bothered by the early start she was forced to have. It gave her an excuse to take her time in the mornings, to grab a latte and get another chance to woo a cute girl.

By the time Ran had mumbled her “see ya later,” Moca was already sitting up and sorting through her notifications. Her essay was graded and she got a decent grade. About three variations of the same old meme from Himari in the group chat. Moca just liked all the posts without comment. Yukina posted a new track at 4 am. Watch Later. Should be good, Lisa talks at length about Yukina’s inhuman creative process. 

There was hardly a point to staying in bed any longer. 

Moca had spent the entire previous day devising a foolproof plan to get Saya’s number. She knew it was foolproof because Tomoe told her so after a delirious midnight string of texts. So it must be true. 

It was guaranteed to work. Moca would place her usual order, they would share some banter. She would hear Saya's clear bell of a voice say, “Well, is there anything I can get for you?” and Moca would smirk, looking up at her through hooded lashes, and state with the confidence of a billionaire playboy, “Yeah, your number,” and Saya would blush furiously, tinting that perfect skin of hers a deep magenta as she wrote down her contact info surrounded by little hearts and, if Moca was lucky, a kiss from those small pink lips on the crown of the paper. And Saya would fall for her a thousand times over in Moca’s head as she walked her usual stroll to the cafe.

It was only as she started up the steps did she snap remotely back to reality. She put on one of her favorite outfits, sure, but her hair stuck up in odd places. Her eyes were still baggy from the interrupted sleep. She never wore makeup. She liked to think it was charming most days out of the year, it was part of her image, after all. But today was different. Today she was trying to impress SAYA.

Saya who was right in front of her. Saya who smiled when she caught Moca’s eye again. Saya who giggled when Moca feigned dramatic impatience as the man in front of her couldn't decide between a small or medium Americana. He settled for a large black coffee, and then it was Moca’s turn.

Best act, Moca.

“Hey again! What can I get for you today?”

God, her voice did things to Moca’s heart. Another customer entered, and the jingle of the doorbell mingled dissonance to the white noise in her head.

Best act Moca!! Say SOMETHING.

“Ooh, I'll just take another medium latte.” Was her voice wavering? Hopefully not. “Extra espresso shot, one pump vanilla please~”

She at least attempted to extend the please with a cute grin. Saya smiled back with a “Sure thing" as she tapped in the order. Okay, not a total disaster. 

“Are the morning shifts always this crazy?” Moca decided small talk could maybe distract her from the cacophony in her brain.

“Oh, I'm new to the morning shift, but even night shifts get pretty wild,” Saya said. “People will stop at NOTHING to get their fix. It's almost pathetic.”

They both laughed. “Well, you seem to keep your cool pretty well from what I've seen,” Moca chimed back. “Really, it's admirable.”

She gave as exasperated chuckle. “Thanks, I really, really try. Some of these people though...wow"

“Believe me, I completely get it.”

“Yeah. Anywho, is there anything else you wanted?”

Oh.

There was the question. 

Moca short-circuited against her smile. It took everything she had not to audibly stutter out even the faintest of responses. She couldn't do it, not now, the air was too static, the line was too long, and she had hesitated.

“I'll just, I'll just take two egg and cheese croissants please. Warm, please” She tried her best to maintain at least the friendly smile. She wanted to die. 

“I'll get those right up. You really like our bread, don’t you?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot. Okay, she’s making your coffee you can still talk to her you absolute imbecile.

Moca stepped off to the side after she paid to watch Saya put together her drink. Saya piped up first.

“I remember you from a few afternoon shifts. You really cannot get enough of our bread from what I've heard.”

“I truly cannot. I've been told it's a problem, but I don't see any problem with all the sweet, sweet loyalty rewards.”

She wanted to say, That's weird, I think I'd remember a face like yours, but she resigned to the thought alone and saved the line for later.

“You know, my family owns the bakery we buy our pastries from.”

Moca audibly gasped, completely unable to hide her enthusiasm. The woman of her dreams just got that much more perfect. “Ooooh! Hey, any way you could make a special delivery to your faaaavorite customer?” She crooned the question, leaning over the counter where Saya, who gave a shy smile in response, was finishing up bagging her order. 

“You know, I seriously doubt it, but I can still ask.”

Moca was probably blushing like mad with the way her heart was fluttering. Saya was so incredibly easy to talk to, her presence so comfortable and her voice almost therapeutic in its tone. It was when she took her order with a fleeting, “Well, it's the thought that counts” and made her way over to her favorite chair that she let herself breathe for the first time in about ten minutes.

She was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the small talk is a little boring, I really wanted to get this chapter out so I can start working on the good stuff >:3c


	3. Mocha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up prettyyyy long but I was too inspired by all you guys' comments about Moca's being a useless lesbian to not add a bit

The rest of the day passed with only a bit of relentless teasing from Tomoe. Moca supposed she would never hear the end of it and resigned to her fate as the hopeless, tired, useless lesbian of their group.

As if she hadn’t been before.

Every one of Moca’s friends likes girls to some capacity. There’s Tomoe, who pretty much introduced herself to Moca as a hardcore, punk rock lesbian back in junior high. She’s always been comfortable in the label, brandishing her rainbow lanyards and dramatic eyeliner that could kill any man that dared look at her and capture any woman who had the honor of catching her eye. She was confident, the trend setter older sister type that would never let anyone feel bad about themselves.

Tsugumi was a bit of a wild card. For the longest time, Moca and company fully believed she might have actually been straight, not as a disappointment, but more as a surprise that she even found such aggressively gay friends to begin with. Then they thought more, and they thought maybe she was ace, maybe she just isn’t interested in anyone. Then they got a little tipsy before a Roselia concert, and Tsugu let loose every one of her repressed thoughts about Sayo Hikawa. Moca kicks herself every day for not recording it.

There’s also Himari. Sweet, dramatic, precious Himari. To her defense, she was never going to have the same confidence in her identity as Moca or Tomoe. They could never figure out why she was so in denial for so long; her parents were open allies and all of her friends are gay. But still, for the first two years of high school, she built herself up to be their token straight friend, the one who likes boys, the one who dated lots of boys to prove just how straight she was, she’s so straight she would totally date Tomoe, but only if she was a guy, okay, great, yeah, she knows she said she was straight but she thinks “heteroflexible” may fit her better, like she still mostly likes boys but she would date a girl, the right girl, and she would kiss a girl, and then she did kiss a girl, all right, she’ll come clean she’s probably bi, but with a preference for men, but she still likes women, she likes women a lot, wow, she really, really likes women a lot - and now they’re in college, and now she’s finally dating Tomoe. Character progression, Moca thinks.

Moca and Ran dated for a bit in high school. Neither of them regret it, really. If anything it brought them closer. After about six months of it, though, they realized their feelings were closer to them just being best friends. Ran was never the most affectionate person around. It's not that she didn't like Moca; quite the contrary, in fact. Moca was her light in the dark ever since they were kids, and Ran was Moca’s confidante and translator for the same time. The breakup wasn't even messy. It was a simple, mutual understanding between two kindred souls destined to always be with each other. But, like, platonically. It ended up being the best decision Moca ever made.

Moca proved herself as the messiest lesbian out of all of them on a near daily basis. It was no secret that she didn't have her life together, evidenced clearly by her bread dependence, appalling fashion sense, and near nonexistent sleep schedule. Any outsider could tell she was a disaster. All the insiders, though, knew how much wiser beyond her years she really was. She was clever, intuitive, a little cheeky, but always earnest in her advice. The core group was well acquainted with Wise Sage Moca, about as well acquainted as they are with her real, unabashed, true form: the Moca who trips over her feet every time she sees a cute girl across the street, who falls in love with any woman who’s nice to her, who shifts with nervous energy despite her lethargic demeanor, whose voice cracks and whose ears burn red and whose hair refuses to lie flat. She was a walking hyperbole.

The teasing was not without a bit of pep talk, of course. Tomoe would never let Moca feel down on herself after all.

They walked together out of the library late that night.

“So is tomorrow the day? Like officially?” Tomoe asked as they passed through the square.

Moca let out a dramatic sigh. “I mean...I'd like it to be. What if she's not working mornings anymore? I couldn't take it. I wouldn't let myself live it down.”

“Hey, lighten up a little, man. With the way she talks about it it sounds like she’s stuck there.”

“Oh. That's good for me, then!”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Tomoe chuckled out. They walked the rest of the way to the dorm in comfortable silence.

☆☆☆

Ran’s mumbled goodbye the next morning sounded more like a “go get ‘em,” which lifted Moca’s spirits a tad. She took her time getting ready, not bothering to tame her silver mane but bothering to put on some lip gloss. Saya’s makeup was always modest but smooth, and Moca wasn't about to silently challenge her to a losing battle.

After a quick look in the mirror and one last ruffle of her hair, she set out.

Moca was lucky enough to live in the dorm nearest to the cafe. Around a corner, though the courtyard, and there it was, in all its glory. The building also housed a small cafeteria and some clubrooms, but the cafe, situated a crow’s fly from the entrance, was clearly the hub of activity.

Except for today, apparently. Moca walked in to find she was the only one in line. In fact, Saya was the only one behind the counter. The two of them met eyes as Moca made her way forward, and exchanged warm smiles. The universe was on their side.

“Hey hey heyy again!” Saya chimed from behind the register.

“Hello hello, a fated meeting, I suppose.”

“Well, I work here and you come every day, so I guess it does work out for the best.” Saya continued, “What can I get for you today then?”

Moca opened her mouth to start her order before Saya cut her off with a “wait.”

She looked up and pointed each word as she rattled off, “Latte...medium. Extra espresso, one pump...vanilla! And two croissants. Warmed up.”

Moca's heart absolutely swelled. “Looks like you know me so well already,” she crooned as she put her head in her hands.

A laugh from Saya as she walked over to start the coffee. “Well, not well enough really. I don't even know your name!”

“I'm Moca.”

“Moca...Mocaaaa.” The cup stopped moving for a second as Saya contemplated. Hearing her say her name so quietly and so drawn out did things to Moca’s already rapid heart. “You've probably gotten this plenty of times, but how do you feel about chocolate?”

“Ooh, don’t get me wrong, I love mochas, it just feels a bit...on the nose, I guess.”

“Well, I think ours are pretty rockin’, if you ever want to try anything different,” Saya couldn't keep from laughing again.

“Moca doesn't quite mind different, she thinks. But she never lets up on the bread.”

Saya let out interspersed giggles through the whole exchange. It was adorable. Moca couldn't help but get caught in the infectious nature of Saya’s joy.

“I tell you what, since I like you so much, and you need something different.” A hot, frothy, delectable-looking latte was set on the counter. “A mocha for Moca. On me.”

Moca was taken far, far aback. Before she could protest, Saya pointed at her and said, “But you're still paying for your bread. I don't know you that well yet.”

Here was this woman, this treasure Moca discovered all of three days prior, already offering her a free drink. It gave Moca hope like she’d never felt, but even above the hope was a cloudy euphoria that grew with every sentence they shared. In that moment, she flipped her plan.

When Saya asked, “So is there anything else you're going to want?” Moca was already taking a small business card and pen.

“You've given me so much already, I think I should be giving you something.” 

She slid her the card with her number and a small heart.

The implications of the situation appeared to hit Saya all at once, as she smiled ear to ear as she pocketed the card. “Oh, oh my goodness, okay, yeah, I'll get your receipt, I think the line is getting a bit irate.”

Moca hadn't even noticed the line forming behind them as they had talked. For a bit, she wanted to believe the world was all theirs, even at least this corner of it. 

As Moca took her order and left, she looked back to see Saya bounce just a little lighter as she served the next customer. As she watched, she realized she may have been more in love with this woman than she initially planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Himari's realization of her sexuality is based loosely on my journey with bisexuality (The main difference being my parents and I don't have a goth gf lol) ~  
> Also to keep the record clear, I love love romantic mocaran, it's one of my main bandori otps, I just needed to write sayamoca more than anything since there's so little of it orz So today ranmoca is gonna be platonic soulmates


	4. Cast of Characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long-ish one but I love writing these rambly expositions sorry guys  
> Featuring Stupidly Observant Saya

The cafe was open seven days a week, 5 am to 10 pm. When most everywhere else on campus abided by the strict assumption of three meals a day, with specially designated foods for each (who needs pancakes at 2 am? Certainly not any of the students, apparently,) the cafe was the haven for all those badly scheduled mornings and restless evening energy. As a result, though, the staff required to work was constantly rotating and growing. Saya didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly she found herself surrounded by young professionals and scampy freshmen alike behind the counter. The diversity stretched far past the customers.

The manager had a special spot for Saya, however. As the daughter of the restaurant’s main food provider, she occupied a role as both flagship employee and darling to the boss. She had to be. She had to keep giving them pastries. She got the hours she wanted, and the pay she deserved. She partly wished she didn’t have to work so much sometimes, on the nights where she would close an hour later because of desperate students and last minute complications, or mornings where she would crawl out of the top bunk and try her best to change and make her way out without waking Kasumi or Tae, or afternoons where she would wistfully look to the study groups claiming the couches, dreaming of days where she could prioritize her academics above her work, instead of the other way around.

Working so much did have its perks. For one, the same sorts of people show their faces nearly every day. At around 3 pm every other day, a frantic design major would walk in with her sketchbook and order a large dark roast coffee. She usually filled the cup to the brim with soy milk after adding an obscene amount of sugar. The most Saya ever counted was ten packets. She would then proceed to sit on the loveseat nearest to the biggest window, and slowly down the concoction while she drew. Saya swears she saw her drawing her once. She never felt right to ask.

Tuesday is typically the slowest day. However, the first customer to walk in the door was always this lanky engineering major. Saya figured she had a ridiculous schedule, maybe an 8 am lecture or lab. Regardless, she always ordered the same thing: raspberry iced tea with lemon. After she got her drink, she would leave. Never a coffee. Never a snack. Never a chat. She would look down at her phone, order, and without looking up, she would exit into the dreary mornings.

The lunch rush usually brought a nice variety of people. Varying paths and timings made it hard to pick out specific characters, except for one guy. He was broad shouldered, stocky, tanned, and had a long crop of platinum blond hair, with a long, scruffy beard to match. He also had a terrible, terrible fashion sense. That’s what Saya noticed about him the first time; he walked in on the first day of classes wearing croc sandals and an obscure, obnoxious graphic tee. Every day since then, he would stride up to the counter, ask for Saya specifically, and ask her to give him a random sandwich. Saya enjoyed punching in his orders. It gave her a chance to try out new ingredients hardly anyone ordered, and he’s only been dissatisfied once. Little victories.

The biggest change to switching to a consistent morning shift was learning a new, smaller set of characters. Like the soft-spoken finance major (caramel macchiato), or the tall basketball girl (frozen hot chocolate with extra whipped cream), or the business major who always dressed up (regular latte, no sugar). 

By far the highlight of Saya’s new morning shift was the sleepy, silver-haired beauty with the chocolate name.

Of course she had heard of Moca. She frequented the small bakery her family owned, and her coworkers loved to joke about how much bread she would order throughout the day. They would call her their main source of income, and the one that keeps them stocked, no matter the day, time, weather, or circumstance. Somehow, though, she never ran across her. The closest she came was a day she worked the sinks when Moca came by for her afternoon bread run. She never knew her in the way she did now, and she was infinitely grateful that fate should have it like that.

Saya wasn’t sure if she would have ever made a move. She likes to think she would have. Something about the aura Moca gave off immediately drew Saya. She was so different, like she was never on the same Earth that Saya stood. Her flyaways stood with a mind of their own, her hands always moved a little after her words, and her voice, however monotone, crooned every word in a way that forced Saya to focus on everything she said. She was blunt, and cunning, and totally, obviously into her.

Maybe that’s what stopped her. Moca had absolutely no confidence in her ability to court Saya, but somehow she knew. Fate would have them together, fate would succeed in the end. That being said, she was fully prepared to write her number on the cup, like in some horrible Hallmark movie. But more gay.

She put her number in her phone the second Moca left the cafe. She couldn’t seem too eager. The whole time Moca had her breakfast, they kept exchanging glances, and Moca’s eyes lit up a little more with each passing look. All they could stand to do was share smiles.

Was this how you’re supposed to act around a crush? Saya couldn’t really put a finger on it. Moca had been obvious from the beginning, and clearly Saya must have tipped her off at some point for Moca to give her her number like this. It almost felt too easy. Not that she was complaining.

The sleeves of Moca’s hoodie fell around her elbows when she went to take sips, and would pool around her wrists when she went back to resting. For all the spacey energy she gave off, there was something comfortable about her sitting there, warm and contented. She would close her eyes and take long draughts of the coffee Saya made her, setting it down with a sigh and a smile, and then go back to her phone, or her food. She moved in rhythm, in slow movements that telegraphed exactly what she was thinking.

Maybe that’s why she liked her so much. There seemed to be no guessing with Moca. Over the next few days, she would walk in and almost collapse onto the counter if she had another sleepless night or terrible class. That required a pump of chocolate and a big, warm muffin. She would dress up a little, put on her favorite short jacket and choker. Those days were for blueberry scones and cinnamon. Sometimes, she would brush Saya’s hand when she grabbed her drink, the calloused tips of her fingers lingering long enough to send a chill down Saya’s spine. Saya would have no response to that. And Moca knew that.

It took until the end of the school week for Saya to finally text Moca back. It felt wrong to not reach out after the days of flirting, and it tortured her just as much not to know her outside the walls of the cafe.

She started simple: ‘Hey!! It’s Saya ^-^’

About ten minutes later, her phone lit up to show an ‘oh heyy~’

And then, ‘i was wondering when youd text back, thought you might have forgotten me’

‘I would never!! You’re way too different to forget.’

‘different good???’

‘Different Great. <3’

About ten minutes later, her phone lit up to a ‘<3’

Fate would have them, it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh idk where this is going lol enjoy


	5. Saturday, 8 p.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh worm? I'm not dead!!!

Suddenly, many of the sights Moca passed on a daily basis became so much more vibrant. Her landmarks stood in sharp contrast to the distant horizon, capped by a dazzling blue sky. She thought it might be her new favorite color. She passed the cafe on the way to class, looked down to the path, and smiled. The garden in front was sprouting bright blue flowers that jostled delicately in the breeze. The arrangement made it so the darkest flowers faded into the lightest, so that each tiny bloom grew into a bigger, swaying gradient against the red brick. It was definitely her new favorite color.

Suddenly, the nights became smoother. She would get to bed after her chores were finished, and she would sleep continuously until her eyes would flutter open to Ran’s silhouette framed by the closing door. She would hear a muttered goodbye, her heart would ache for a morning they could have together, but she would revel in the vestiges of a silky, unbroken night of sleep.

Suddenly, her sense of time became much more momentous. At least a week passed before Moca and Saya decided on a spot to go out, and every day during that week felt like its own small trial. When she pocketed her phone at the top of her day, her walks became a question of what to say, when to say it, and where to meet. 

Answers that became, “i wanna see you,” 8 pm on a Saturday, on the grassy hill near the library.

It was just going to be a casual walk, they decided. A chance to talk and stargaze and get to know each other outside of the counter and the screen. Which meant Moca had to put on her best looks.

Himari helped her with the outfit. She landed on her best pair of baggy black pants and a cropped hoodie, leaving her hair to frizz as it may. Perfect. After a tasteful spritz of Himari's favorite perfume, she set out, calm and collected.

Calm and collected.

Slightly nervous and collected. (Maybe she shouldn’t have left her hair like that. It didn’t look right in the building windows…)

Slightly nervous and shaky. (Why are you shaking? You literally know her now.)

Very nervous and shivering. (It’s cold. When did it get this cold? It should not be this cold.)

Calm and collected. She saw Saya sitting on the hill, one leg out and arm propped on her knee, scrolling through her phone. She smiled.

Saya saw Moca, too, before she got a chance to think about sneaking up on her. They met halfway onto the sidewalk and set out.

“Where are we even headed tonight?” Saya asked first.

Moca didn’t have a real answer. “Around.”

“I’d like that.”

Cool, now they’re walking. “Around” ended up meaning taking a lap through the commons in basically silence. 

The silence made Moca even colder. It was the kind of night that wouldn’t be too terrible if the wind would calm down, or if she didn’t have her midriff exposed, or if the cute girl walking next to her wouldn’t be so silent.

After half a lap, Moca finally broke their vigil.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“I hardly know what you like, Moca,” Saya responded with a sigh.

“Not true! I like bread, and sleeping, and women, and math…”

“I suppose you’re right, I didn’t know about the last one, though.”

“It’s true. It’s soothing.”

“What do you hate?”

“I hate light pollution. So much. Probably is one of those things I think about every night around here.”

They stopped their trek to look up at the pitch dark above them. The sidewalk was sparsely lined with fake-old street lamps, and the buildings around them were still glowing from most of the windows. Despite the campus still being restless, somehow the dark sky settled onto their shoulders, and they both released their breaths and tensions simultaneously.

“Do you see what I mean?” Moca continued.

“I completely understand. Can you imagine how different our lives would be if we could see the stars every night?”

“It’d certainly be prettier.”

Saya didn’t respond for a few minutes. They resumed their walk and ended up at the back entrance to Saya’s dorm before she spoke up again, “Hey, Moca, this was so relaxing, but I want to see you again tomorrow night. Can you meet me in the same spot, maybe same time tomorrow?”

(Three discussion forum questions, four emails to write, and an outline. And when’s the last time you’ve shaved?)

“...I would love that.”

“Awesome! See you around, then.” With that, Saya tentatively patted Moca’s shoulder.

Moca grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug.

“See you tomorrow morning, Saya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, I'm so so so sorry for the ridiculous delay, college is uhhh hard but now I'm on break so I have time to work on this so! yay! (*＞ｖ＜)ゞ*゜


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